Fare Me Well
by TiTivillus
Summary: "You've kept it with you this entire time and you never said a word?" Coda to episode 11x20- Don't call me Shurley. The boys have a much-needed heart to heart after the events of the episode. Hurt/Comfort.
**Title:** Fare Me Well

 **Summary:** "You've kept it with you this entire time and you never said a word?" Coda to episode 11x20- Don't call me Shurley. The boys have a much needed heart to heart after the events of the episode. Hurt/Comfort.

 **Warning:** Spoilers for episodes up to 11x20 "Don't Call Me Shurley" Rated T for swearing, mentions of suicide and injuries.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

* * *

Oddly enough, the whole situation reminded Dean of that time in River Grove, when Sam got infected with the Croatoan virus.

Sam had been younger back then but in a lot of ways Sam hadn't changed all that much from the kid that had sat in that clinic- eyes blotchy and red-rimmed as he demanded Dean's gun so he could end his own life.

" _Give me my gun and leave," the words were laced with a tremor of desperation._

 _Fear was shining from his eyes, but Sam had always been more stubborn than anyone gave him credit for. The wetness in his hazel pools made him look so much younger than he was- the flushed cheeks gave his face an air of snot-nosed hopefulness that reminded Dean of their childhood._ _Of skinned knees and lost friends and years' worth of innocence, flushed down the drain._

 _Sam was dying._

 _And he was terrified._

 _"For the last time, Sam. No," Dean had shaken his head, turned around because looking into Sam's brimming eyes was too painful- made the seriousness of what was happening undeniable._

 _And Dean had realized then and there- in the face of an infection that nearly cost both of their lives- that he was never ever going to leave Sam to die… that no matter what- the day that Sam died, Dean was going to follow straight after._

Ten years.

It's been ten years since that hunt in River Grove and absolutely nothing between them had changed.

They were still hunting.

Still hurting.

And they still had the most tangled up, crazy, unhealthy, codependent relationship on earth.

Dean had tried to save innocents. His hands had been shaking as he tried to duct-tape the doors to keep the people inside the police station save. But it was hard to focus when his little brother was coughing and grunting and crashing to the floor just a few feet away from him.

Sam was in pain- he was _dying_.

And just like that, the duct tape was forgotten.

The innocents were forgotten.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, falling down to his knees beside his brother's crumpled form. Sam's hair was obscuring half of his face, his chest was rising and falling erratically as he gasped for air and his hands- thickly veined with creeping death were shaking as the grasped Dean's shirt.

"We're not gonna make it," Sam had grunted, face twisted with torturous pain as he lifted his heavy gaze up to meet Dean's.

And it was all right back there- the despair, the resignation, the willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good- veiled by a fog of pain and confusion.

Denial roared up inside of Dean. "No, no, no. There's no quitting here."

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they could never catch a break. That they had been through so much together, only to get torn from one another's side and relive their worst nightmare all over again.

"We're never gonna make it."

"Sam, listen to me. That's not you talking, it's the fog."

Sam grunted, his pulse quickening as some of the remaining color drained from his face. His hands were shaking- fingers moving sluggishly- weakly- against the fabric of Dean's shirt and Dean couldn't do this again… he just _couldn't_.

He was done with watching Sam die. He was done with saving people. Done with hunting things.

Why was it their job to save everyone when they couldn't even have each other?

Dean was clutching Sam's jacket- his neck- was brushing his quivering fingers over the frantic flutter of Sam's pulse point. He was already fading. His eyes had taken on a sluggish haze. His lips had taken on a bluish hue. "You're going to choose Amara. Over me… over everything."

He hadn't anticipated the words- Sam's fears and worries spilling from his tongue before he could hold them back. His protective walls were down due to the infection and he wasn't thinking straight, but still Dean could feel a painful sting of denial in his chest at Sam's confession.

Deep down his little brother had never gotten over the thought that he was somehow expendable to Dean- that Dean would be better off without him by his side. That he would put other people in front of Sam like there was any doubt about how much Sam meant to him.

"Sam, _no_!" he barked, desperately trying to get Sam to come back to his senses because he needed for his brother to hold on just a little while longer- he needed for this madness.

A spark of emotion flickered across Sam's features. Maybe it had been the sharpness in Dean's voice or the expression on his face, but Sam blinked and a little bit of awareness seeped back into his eyes. "I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean that, Dean."

His lips quivered like he had only just realized what he had said- that the infection had started to cloud his rationality, that the venom spreading through his veins was making him lose control of his mind and body. "I can't fight this."

He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of pain- the cords of his neck popping out beneath the clamminess of his skin. His eyes turned desperate when he opened them again, his fingers shifting against Dean's skin like he wasn't sure whether to pull him close or shove him away.

"You gotta go," Sam gasped, eyes wide and filled with tears in a way that meant that he didn't want to die alone… that he was scared out of his mind but even more determined to get Dean to safety first. "Gotta get out before you're infected."

And Dean would have laughed if he wasn't too busy swallowing around the massive lump in his throat.

Because hadn't Sam paid attention? Hadn't he noticed that there was a pattern to all of this? That Dean would never- _ever_ \- leave Sam to die, no matter what. That he would rather sell his soul and go to hell all over again before he ever spent another living day on earth without his brother by his side?

And then Sam got angry. He got desperate- his teeth grit in a last ditch effort to get Dean to leave.

"Go before I hurt you!" he tried to shove at Dean's chest, tried to save his brother from enduring the same torture he was going through. From dying right there by his side. Because of course, Sam would be more concerned about hurting Dean then about whatever was happening to himself.

 _Sam slammed his hand on the table, causing it to rattle._ _"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done."_

 _"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Dean shuddered._

 _"Dean I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you."_

 _"No?" Dean huffed out a breath._

 _"No, you can keep going."_

 _"Who says I want to?"_

Ten years and not a thing had changed. Sam was still stubborn. Dean was still a dumbass. And they still couldn't let go of each other. Still didn't _want_ to go on without the other.

But Dean's face was lined with calm determination.

His heart wasn't frantically beating with fear.

Not anymore.

Sam wasn't the only one with a stubborn streak in their family.

If this was going to be the end, so be it.

"No, I'm not leaving you- ever," Dean growled out because it was important for Sam to know. He didn't want his brother to die thinking anything else- doubting Dean's devotion to their family- to his own flesh and blood brother. They were a team. Always have been. Always would be and maybe it was time for them to finally leave this world for good.

Dean could make his peace with it.

Right here on the floor- with the fog slowly creeping over them like liquid clouds, the angry growls of the others growing louder in the background and Dean's fingers interwoven with his brother's, he was ready to lie his weary head to rest and die. For good.

He took a deep breath, made sure to inhale as much of the disease as possible and squeezed Sam's hand tightly with his own.

 _It's okay, brother… it's okay. We did well. It's all gonna be over soon, Sammy. I love you, buddy._

He waited for the pain to set in, waited for the wave of misery to overcome him, but nothing changed and Dean opened his eyes again only to find himself unaffected- completely whole and safe amidst the deathly fog.

Nonono… what the hell was going on? Why wasn't he infected?

Realization dawned slowly on him and then- _only then_ \- did panic set it.

He was immune. He was immune and he was going to watch Sam die again- right here in his arms.

The indistinct shouting and banging continued- a window got smashed somewhere in the background and Dean's mind was racing- his whole body was shaking as he tried to think of a way to stop this all, desperation and panic warring with his rationality.

A violent tremor wracked Sam's spine and he shuddered, quickly losing his fight against the virus. His long legs were shifting- boots scraping the floor as he weakly tried to change his position. Dean clutched the side of his brother damp neck and squeezed the muscle there. He lifted his gaze heavenwards and lost the frail grasp on his composure. "Stop this! You hear me you dick?!"

The banging stopped.

And so did the screaming and rattling and the broken wails of the little girl they had saved.

Everything dropped silent and Dean's heart stilled in his chest.

Sam's body slumped to the side, eyelashes fluttering and pupils rolling back in his head.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me. I'm right here," Dean's voice quivered as he brushed Sam's unruly bangs from his face in a familiar gesture. The chestnut strands were soft beneath his fingers- Sam's clammy skin was cold to the touch.

Dean wanted to break down and wail- everything inside him protesting at the sight of his brother's losing battle, but he couldn't. He needed to be there for Sam- needed to let him know that he wasn't going anywhere- that he wasn't going to leave him alone. Not now. Not ever.

"I'm right here. Okay, it's okay. It's all right. I'm right here. I'm right here."

He was like a broken record, the words leaving his mouth on their own accord. It was Dean's default mode- his autopilot. When emotions got too overwhelming- when fear or panic threatened to take over, he shut off his system and focused on the one thing he did best- watching out for Sammy.

It was okay. Dean was going to follow him soon enough.

And just as he thought his brother was about to take his dying breath, something in the air changed.

It was like a weight had been lifted from them somehow, a nearly imperceptible spark of hope in an impossible situation. A bright, blinding light erupting from Sam's jacket pocket.

Dean frowned, fingers shaking as he dove inside and felt the coarse leather cord and the familiar shape of a horned charm against his palm.

Breath catching in his throat, Dean pulled the amulet from Sam's pocket and felt his brother's heavy gaze on his skin as their eyes met over the shining object in his palm.

Awareness returned to Sam's gaze and his chest started moving in an easier rhythm. He lifted his arms, looking a little dazed as he searched them for the evidence of his infection and found them void of the thick, black veins that had covered them not even a minute ago.

Dean swallowed thickly, trying to comprehend what was going on and coming up empty.

This was his amulet. The amulet that Sam had given him on a fateful Christmas night. The amulet he had worn with a sense of pride and worship- the one he had never really taken off, not even when Sam and he had not been on speaking terms. This was the amulet he had discarded in a trashcan because he had lost faith in humanity- in their brotherhood. The amulet he had felt like a phantom weight against his chest every goddamn minute since he had dropped it in that motel room and never looked back.

Had Sam kept it this entire time?

And why was it glowing? Could it really be…?

Dean's trail of thoughts broke off when the sheriff and the group of civilians they had saved earlier filtered into the room, seemingly cured of the infection and looking just as confused as the brothers did.

Dean straightened up and steadied Sam when he swayed- his eyes still fixated on the glowing little object in his palm as it filled the air between them with a warm and comforting presence.

What the hell was going on, here?

* * *

They were quiet on the way back home.

The thought of having stood right across from god, having talked with a being more powerful and old than creation itself, was a bit overwhelming, to say the least, and Dean wasn't even sure he had fully processed it yet.

I mean, they had both seen their fair amount of freaky stuff in their lives, but this was definitely knocking all of their previous encounters with angels and demons and freaking prophets right out of the ballpark.

And not only did they have to process the fact that god actually existed (Dean had had his doubts about that), but what came on top of it was that he was hiding in plain sight this entire time- sitting by and writing books while the world fell to fucking pieces.

So yeah, the tension in the car was palpable after Chuck had revealed himself and wiped the slate clean with hours' worth of explanations and answering questions.

Dean wasn't sure if he understood all of it but what he did know was that Chuck had a shot at helping them with Amara and with saving Cas from her clutches and that Sam wouldn't be sitting on the passenger seat beside him if it wasn't for Chuck's unexpected appearance.

When they finally arrived at the bunker, it took conscious effort to uncurl his fingers from around the steering wheel. He felt 300 years old- every joint of his body was aching, his heart was still battered from the shock and pain of nearly having lost Sam- again- and his soul was bruised with all the memories and emotions Chuck had brought up inside of him.

He felt drained. Completely spent after the events of the day and all the stressfulness of the past couple of weeks.

"One of these days, huh?" Sam asked in a hesitant voice from the spot next to him and Dean almost laughed. It said a lot about their lives that meeting _God_ and having a 3-hour chat with him in a freaking roadhouse was just 'one of these days' in the life of a Winchester.

"Yeah," his voice was raspy from hours of silence.

Sam was looking down at his lap, the hesitant smile slowly fading from his lips as he fumbled with the horned little amulet in his hands.

Chuck had returned the amulet to them with an odd expression on his face- if Dean didn't know it any better he would have said it was wistfulness.

"This is yours, I believe," he had said and dangled it in the air between them. "Better hold on to it."

Sam had snatched it before Dean had a chance to react and shoved it back into his pockets like he was afraid Dean might decline the offer and tell Chuck that he didn't want the little trinket anymore.

And Dean had felt a pang of guilt in his chest for the flicker of hurt that had crossed Sam's features.

An old wound that had never really scabbed over.

Sam cleared his throat a little awkwardly and stared out of the car window without meeting Dean's gaze. "So… Chuck, huh?"

"Have you had it this entire time?" Dean interrupted his brother and swallowed thickly. He stared at Sam's profile, watched the way his brother's eyes flashed with momentary panic at the unexpected question.

Sam huffed out a shaky laugh- the kind that didn't sound happy- the kind of laugh that made Dean's skin crawl because it meant his brother was trying to hide his pain. He shook his head, eyes distant and expression closed off as he tried to deny it. "Of course not. I don't know how it got in there… it must have been Chuck."

Dean felt his insides clench at the note of misery in Sam's tone. The sadness shining from his fumbled with the horned little object, long fingers shaking so hard he nearly dropped the damn thing and Dean felt his eyes dampen at the thought that he had purposefully made Sam watch as he had dropped the amulet into the trash- the message clear: our brotherhood isn't what it used to be, it's broken. Beyond repair.

But he had been wrong. So wrong.

If anything, their brotherhood had grown stronger over the years.

"I think I'm gonna… I should probably get inside, unpack our stuff and—"

"Sam."

Sam froze, his fingers fumbling with the door when the little horned amulet slipped from his hand and hit the leather seat. Sam's hand shot forward to retrieve it but Dean caught his wrist, holding him in place.

"You've kept it with you this entire time and you never said a word?"

Sam looked miserable and pale, his shoulders rigid with the urge to run- which told Dean a lot about how sore the topic still was- how much Sam was still hurting over what Dean had done.

"I thought you didn't want it."

Dean swallowed, around the burning tightness of his throat- the sensation of a knife slowly sinking into his heart at his brother's broken confession.

And wasn't it ironic? Dean had almost lost Sam today- had brushed his stupid, floppy hair from his face and held his hand while his baby brother had struggled to drag air into his lungs. That he had been ready to leave this world by Sam's side, thinking they were all good.

That there was nothing between them that needed to be said because they knew the important stuff anyway, only to realize that his brother would have died with the discarded symbol of their brotherhood in his jacket pocket, thinking that Dean still wasn't over everything that had happened between them.

"Sammy..."

Sam pressed his lips together, staring out of the window.

Dean sighed. "You remember Maggie from that all-girls school in Flint, Michigan? The supernatural play?"

Sam looked taken aback. "You mean the Calliope hunt?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled a little at the memory. "Maggie offered me the fake amulet and I didn't take it at first. I shot her down."

Sam actually blinked at that, looking like a kicked puppy. His expression twisted a little and he looked away, visibly hurting. Dean squeezed his wrist to regain his attention.

"I told her I didn't need a necklace to remind me of how I feel about my brother."

Sam looked up at that, his eyes widening a little and Dean mentally scolded himself for not having addressed this issue earlier when it was so obviously needed between them.

"And I stand by that, Sam. For as long as I live, there'll never be a moment where I will need a reminder of what you mean to me."

"Dean…" Sam grimaced a little and Dean smiled, knowing his sentimental girl of an overgrown brother was close to tears and embarrassed about it.

"But…" Dean cleared his throat and let go of Sam's wrist. "You know I really miss that familiar weight around my neck sometimes and I wouldn't— I mean if it's not too late, I wouldn't mind getting it back at some point."

Sam blinked and took in a deep, cleansing breath before looking up and locking his eyes with Dean's

"Dean, you don't have to—"

"I know. I'm not asking because I have to."

"You sure?" Sam bit his lower lip. He looked like he didn't dare to get his hopes up- like he still couldn't quite believe that Dean was gonna ask for it back.

In lieu of an answer, Dean took the necklace and put it on without another word, brushing his fingers over the golden penchant with a soft little smile as it settled over the familiar spot right above the center of his chest.

It was like a tiny puzzle piece slipped back into place, making him whole again.

He hadn't even noticed how much he had missed that stupid little charm before he had slipped it back on.

When he looked back up at Sam, the emotion on the kids face was evident- the relief and happiness nearly tangible in the air between them.

For a moment, Dean was so thrown by the unguarded look of affection and gratefulness on Sam's face that he didn't even mind the girly chick-flick for a change.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam smiled and Dean's heart thudded with love for his floppy-haired, overgrown, sentimental girl of a brother.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, bitch," Dean smiled and shoved Sam's shoulder playfully before they both got out of the car in one synchronized movement. "Let's go talk about our meeting with _God_ cause that's a whole bucket of crazy I haven't processed yet."

He snorted, shaking his head a little at the fact that this was their lives.

They had met the single most powerful being in creation today.

They had gotten caught up in a zombie apocalypse.

Sam had nearly died, _again_.

And in the end, they had restored a tiny bit of their brotherhood.

Dean looked down at the penchant that rested comfortably against his chest and smiled.

Yeah.

It had definitely been one of _these_ days.

 **The end.**

* * *

 _Loved the episode and couldn't resist. Hope they're gonna hold onto the Samulet and get a little chick flick scene out of that one in one of the upcoming episodes (season finale, anyone?) Hope you enjoyed the read! Please drop me a review if you liked it :)_


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